Trinity Rising: Book Two of the Wild Hunt (Wild Hunt Trilogy 2) (57 page)

He shook his head. ‘Impossible. The King sees no one from outside the Grove.’

‘But it’s important!’

‘Forgive me, but this is the King’s will. I cannot make it different.’

‘Is there someone else I can speak to?’

The forestal’s eyes hardened, black as oak-galls. ‘You will not be permitted inside the Grove, my lady, so do not ask. I will guide you through the wildwood to the forests north of Mesarild, but no further or deeper than that.’

Reining back her frustration, she bowed again. ‘Then I thank you. Please join me for supper. There’s plenty – fresh bread, too.’

With a nod she indicated the bannock she had baked in the coals that morning, now wrapped in a cloth.

‘A gift from the hearth,’ he said, coming forward into the clearing.

‘And a gift from the hill,’ Tanith finished the words, ‘so hearts and minds remember still.’

His stony expression relented a little and he studied her with a touch of curiosity. ‘Not many still know the old ways, even amongst your people.’

‘I read a lot,’ she said, shrugging. ‘I didn’t want to offend.’

‘You have not.’ Stooping, he plucked a sprig of leaves from a blue-flowered plant growing amongst the rocks near his feet and held it out to her.

‘What’s this?’

‘Wood vervain. It goes well with rabbit.’

Tanith bruised the leaves in her fingers and cupped them to her nose. ‘It’s good. Piquant.’ She smiled. ‘Thank you. I’m familiar with most herbs, but I didn’t recognise that one.’

‘It only grows here, in the forest.’ He squatted on his heels, bow held loosely between his hands.

Shredding the leaves into the pot, she asked, ‘Does it have medicinal properties? I’m always looking for new remedies.’

‘A tea brewed from the flowers is sovereign against headaches. Beyond that—’ He broke off. ‘I thought you were here alone.’

Tanith lowered the cook-pot lid, disquiet prickling down her spine. ‘I am.’

‘Then you were followed.’

In a heartbeat he was on his feet, an arrow nocked and the string drawn back to his ear, aiming at something behind her. ‘Show yourself, stranger,’ he commanded.

Tanith dropped her hand to the hilt of the dagger at her belt. She should have nothing to fear here, in the fringes of the wildwood, but the forestal’s wariness had set her instincts on edge. Peering into the trees, she made out the shape of a man leading a horse. As he drew closer she recognised his pale-blond hair and sharply handsome features.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, sighing. Ailric had followed her? ‘I know him.’

The forestal lowered his bow but kept a finger over the arrow. ‘You are certain?’

‘Yes. He means no harm.’

Ailric stopped at the edge of the clearing, hands spread to show he held no weapons. He was dressed for riding, with well-stuffed packs tied behind the saddle of his black horse.

Tanith’s heart sank like a stone. He’d come prepared for a long journey. ‘What are you doing here, Ailric?’ she asked.

‘Protecting you, I thought.’ He tethered his mount to a tree next to her own brown mare. ‘When I called at your house and found it empty, I was worried about you.’

‘So you went to my father?’

‘Tanith—’

‘Did he send you after me?’

‘He told me where you were bound.’ Coming towards her, he reached for her hands. ‘Please, Tanith, do not blame him for my decision. The human lands are no place for a Daughter of the White Court, not unescorted.’

She folded her arms, tucking her hands in her armpits out of his reach. ‘I am not made of porcelain, you know. I’ll be perfectly safe.’

He let his own hands fall to his sides. ‘We hear reports from the Empire almost daily. Bandits, thieves – even the highways are not safe, and now your news of this reiver . . . I cannot allow you to ride into that alone.’

The nerve of him! ‘You cannot
allow
me?’ she echoed. ‘You are not my father, Ailric, nor my husband, to
allow
me to do anything at all. Besides, I won’t be alone. The forestal will see me to the edge of the Great Forest north of Mesarild. From there it’s less than a half-day’s ride into the city. I’ll be fine.’

‘Forgive me, I misspoke.’ Somehow he was closer now, gaze tender, anxious. ‘My only concern is for your well-being. I could not bear it if something were to happen to you, love,’ he said softly.

‘Go home, Ailric.’

Hurt clouded his expression. ‘Why so angry with me?’

Thrusting her hands in her pockets, she looked away. The forestal, waiting on the far side of the fire, was near enough to have overheard most of the exchange. Spirits forfend.

She lowered her voice. ‘Don’t do this. There’s nothing between us.’

Long fingers cradled her cheek, turned her back towards him. ‘Is there not?’

His gold-flecked gaze caressed her face. Such beautiful eyes, the colour of flame, that warmed her and melted her like butter in a skillet and robbed her of the strength to resist as he bent his head and kissed her.

My love
, he whispered into her thoughts.
My only love my Tanith my bride I am yours I have always been yours be mine again
.

His kiss, his scent of cedarwood and bay, was achingly familiar. The touch of his colours conjured a flood of memory. Strong hands at her waist, lifting her onto the mossy lakeshore. Wet bodies sliding over and against each other, and fingers stroking, plucking, strumming her as deftly as a lute, until she sang with desire.

It had been wrong then, and it would be wrong now. Breaking away from his lips, Tanith stepped backwards.

‘No. Not any more.’

Her voice trembled – with anger, with desire, with too many tangled emotions to unpick. She despised what he had become and despised the part of her that still, despite it all, responded to his touch.

‘Don’t do that again.’

He spread his hands, taking a half-step back. ‘Only let me accompany you. For your father’s sake, if not for mine.’

The Bregorinnen stirred. ‘I agreed to guide one, my lady, and one only.’

Ailric turned his easy smile on him. ‘Are two so much more hardship than one?’

‘You would not ask if you knew what you were asking.’ Obviously put out, the forestal sighed. ‘Very well. I will guide you both. But heed this: the wildwood is not a pleasure park. You must obey any command I give on the instant and without question, otherwise I cannot answer for your safety.’

‘Understood,’ Ailric murmured and inclined his head almost far enough to pass for a bow. To Tanith, he added, ‘Please? If you are set on this course, at least let me see you safely to your destination. That is all I ask.’

He sounded sincere. She didn’t know what he had said to her father, but Lord Elindorien would worry less if he thought Ailric was with her. He would have enough challenges, of her making, to face when he returned to the Court in her stead. If it spared him a little worry, she could put up with Ailric for a while longer. Besides, she could not afford to alienate him completely, not when she might one day need House Vairene’s vote in the Council chamber: however she had offended the Ten, she remained House Elindorien’s heir, and Second Ascendant to the throne after Morwenna. Eventually she woud have to rebuild the bridges she had burned that day. Ruefully she wondered – yet again – if allowing Ailric to escort her would have made a difference to the way her address was received, and then thrust the thought from her mind. Second-guessing herself would not help matters now.

‘Very well,’ she said, ‘but only as escort. Nothing more.’

‘Of course.’ He laid his palm over his heart. ‘My lady.’

He crossed the clearing to attend to his horse, and Tanith watched him go. Riding leathers flattered his lean, narrow-hipped physique in ways that left her biting her lip against a sudden heat surging through her. Whatever else Ailric had become, he remained an extraordinarily attractive man.

Blowing out her cheeks, she ran her hands back through her hair, acutely conscious of the warmth in her face. Oh, spirits keep her, that kiss! She had all but fallen for him again. All but forgotten what had driven them apart during the time she spent on the Isles, amongst the humans he regarded with such contempt; the selfish demands that she come home to Astolar, to him, and give up her dream of being a Healer. Her body could not be allowed to overrule her mind a second time.

To busy herself she attended to supper, setting out plates and cups, slicing bread. When the forestal appeared silently at her side with a leather bucket of water she started.

‘Oh!’

‘My apologies. I did not mean to startle you.’

‘It’s my fault. I’m a little distracted.’ He did not miss the glance that strayed towards the horses and she cursed herself. ‘I never asked you for your name. I’m Tanith, and that’s Ailric.’

‘True names have power,’ he said sternly. ‘They should not be used lightly, lest they be used against you.’

The power of the name. It was the oldest of magics, older than horseshoes and hazel twigs and toasting a newborn with wine. Old as the Song itself.

‘I trust you,’ Tanith said and smiled. When the forestal remained silent, she added, ‘So what should I call you by?’

For a long moment he looked away into the woods, his expression closed.

‘Owyn,’ he said, then turned to leave. ‘We begin our journey into the wildwood after supper. Be ready.’

As the sun settled on the Astolan hills in the west and stretched its long golden fingers into the forest, Tanith and Ailric broke camp, carefully erasing any trace of their presence. The firestones were scattered, the ashes buried, even the flattened leaf-mould where she had sat and slept was stirred up again. Ailric’s expression told her he didn’t understand, but he followed her directions and when they were done, the forestal gave her a satisfied nod.

‘You have read well,’ he said.

As she mounted up, Ailric leaned forward in his saddle. ‘What did he mean, you have read well?’

‘I read a little about Bregorinnen customs before I set out. They see it as their duty to tend the forest. It is courteous to tread lightly in these woods.’

Owyn handed each of them an acorn, green-gold and plump, still snug in its cup. ‘Keep these close to you,’ he said. The nut felt heavier in Tanith’s hand than she had expected and her palm tingled. ‘It will protect you from harm and help prevent you from becoming lost. I will lead your horse, my lady, and you will lead your companion’s. Do not stray from the path, whatever you may see or hear.’

From inside his boot he pulled a wooden flute and began to play. An elfin, airy little melody, it danced like leaves in a breeze, twisting and shining and never the same twice. In it Tanith heard fragments of bird-calls, running water, even laughter. Threads of music trailed into the air around them, winking in and out of sight like gossamer.

Like seeing the Song in a complex weaving, except there is no warp and weft. It’s following our path – or we’re following it
.

She tucked the acorn into a pocket and reached her hand up into the music. Bright threads tangled around her fingers then slipped free, drifting into the darkening wood. She rubbed her fingers together. She’d felt something, briefly; spider-silk, maybe, as insubstantial as a breath, yet it had raised the hairs on her arm.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered.

Owyn looked back over his shoulder at her, dipped his head in acknowledgement and played on.

Deep into the woods they rode as the day dwindled and shadows clustered beneath the spreading trees, through pillared halls of mighty beeches hung with banners of sunset light. Across misty glades, past silent pools, until they reached a clearing where two weathered stone columns thrust up from the dark leaf-mould like broken bones. There Owyn stopped and lowered his flute.

‘Wait,’ he said, pacing slowly around, head cocked as if listening for a sound only he could hear. After fully a minute, Ailric urged his horse up past Tanith’s, his mouth framing a question. Owyn’s hand came up, though he did not turn. ‘Please, wait.’

Tanith reached out to touch Ailric’s arm. ‘He knows his way. Let him be.’

The Astolan made no attempt to hide his irritation, but kept his thoughts to himself.

After a moment or two more, Owyn padded back to them, tucking his flute back into its case in his boot. ‘We can go no further this day,’ he said. ‘You should rest.’

Though he spoke quietly, his voice sounded loud in the absence of music – in the absence of any sound at all, Tanith noticed. She dismounted, looking around at the trees that ringed the glade. Not a feather stirred amongst their branches. The clearing was silent as a midnight chapel.

‘How far have we travelled?’ Ailric asked as the forestal led their horses away.

‘I’ve no idea – time flows differently in the wildwood. You’ll have to ask Owyn.’

He made a non-committal sound and lowered his voice. ‘I do not think he cares for me. Are you certain he is trustworthy?’

‘Be nice,’ she chided him. ‘He’s agreed to guide us, and he’s given us no reason to think he is anything but honourable. Don’t think so ill of strangers, Ailric.’

A mark on the surface of the nearest stone caught her eye and she stooped to examine it. Centuries of weather and a crust of grey and golden lichen had all but obscured it, but the closer she looked, the more she saw. The entire surface of the pillar had been carved with symbols, spirals and intricate knot-like patterns so softened by time as to be barely distinguishable from the grain of the rock.